


The Purposes of Perfume

by flibbertygigget



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Aaron Burr: Makeup Artist, Alexander and Eliza are both messed up, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Hercules Mulligan should really shut up, Infidelity, M/M, Multi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Poor Burr, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 07:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5819173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flibbertygigget/pseuds/flibbertygigget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander Hamilton, Secretary of the Treasury, and his wife Eliza were the most popular couple in America, at least as far as the tabloids were concerned, and barely a week passed without their faces plastered across the front cover of <i>The Sun</i> or <i>Newsweek</i>.</p>
<p>And Aaron? Aaron was their makeup artist.</p>
<p>or</p>
<p>How Aaron Burr managed to become "the other man" for both halves of America's Golden Couple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Purposes of Perfume

The sun had barely begun to rise when Aaron Burr walked from the bus stop to the looming mansion of his employer. Alexander Hamilton, Secretary of the Treasury, and his wife Eliza lived in one of the most impressive houses in the D.C. suburbs. It was a well-known fact that they were the most popular couple in America, at least as far as the tabloids were concerned, and barely a week passed without their faces plastered across the front cover of _The Sun_ or _Newsweek_.

And Aaron? Aaron was their makeup artist.

He flicked on the light of the small, almost closet-like room that was his studio and began to get ready for Hamilton's daily session. It didn't take long. Aaron had long ago learned the value of being orderly, and he could say with confidence that he could find anything at a moment’s notice. Each type of makeup had its drawer, and inside they were arranged by brand and shade. On a small side table he had placed twenty-some bottles of perfume in alphabetical order, grouped in little clusters as to be aesthetically pleasing. The only incongruity in the room was the way that the insufficient lights around the mirror cast inconvenient shadowing the corners, and there was nothing Aaron could do about that.

Hamilton threw the door open with the dramatics of a stage actor, already buzzing from his fourth cup of coffee. It took all the control Aaron had to not roll his eyes as he readjusted the nail polish and perfume that had jittered out of place and resigned himself to Hamilton's incessant chatter.

It had taken him years to learn how to work around Hamilton's constant movement. Even if he managed to get the man to stop talking for a moment, Hamilton would squirm and shift in the chair. Aaron would be lying if he said that he wasn't rather proud of the way that his hand never wavered despite the unique challenge that Hamilton presented. Every touch was completely confident, and Aaron knew that by the end not even the needling tabloids could find anything to complain about where Hamilton's makeup was concerned.

It was a frustratingly monotonous existence, doing makeup for politicians and their families. Aaron knew that he was one of the lucky ones, that he had a salary instead of being subject to the whims of a temperamental system, but… this wasn't what he had envisioned when he had set out on his career. He hadn't ever wanted to be stuck doing the same basics every day, until one day blended seamlessly into the other and he was left to mark time by the shortening eyebrow pencils. Before he had his family to keep the days from being one on repeat, but now that his wife was dead and his daughter in college he only knew the day of the week by what TV shows were on.

Something had to change.

\-----

Aaron was vaguely surprised when Eliza Hamilton slipped into the room carrying two cups of coffee. Even when she made public appearances at Hamilton’s side, she usually preferred to do her own makeup.

“Mrs. Hamilton,” he said. She smiled, placing one cup on the perfume table and offering the other to him.

“Eliza, please; we’re all friends here,” she said.

“Eliza.” Aaron was sorely aware of the powder that clung to his slacks and the tips of his fingers, and he had to resist the urge to brush it off. Hamilton was one thing; the man was so preoccupied with his own voice that Aaron wasn't sure he’d even recognize a friend in a crowd, but Eliza was different. She gazed at him over the rim of her cup as though she could find nothing else more absorbing, as though he was a script to discovering the secrets of the universe. Aaron didn't know whether to hide or draw closer like a moth to a flame, ready to be burned.

“I would like,” Eliza said slowly, “for you to do my makeup.”

“Of course,” Aaron said. He didn't understand why he felt a strange sense of disappointment. “What would you like?” Eliza sat in his makeup chair with a wide smile, setting her coffee aside.

“Well,” she said, “I don't need anything too complicated. Just foundation, blush, a little eyeliner and lipstick. I hope it won't take too much of your time.”

“Of course not,” Aaron said. “I'm just a bit surprised. Eliza didn't answer him, but closed her eyes and let him get right to his work.

It was an altogether different experience doing Eliza’s makeup. Unlike Hamilton, she stayed almost supernatural slow, face open and malleable beneath his hands. Unknowingly, Aaron began to slow, until his strokes were soft and tender. Finally he had finished, but still he lingered, the tip of his brush a hair’s breadth from her cheek. Then Eliza's eyes opened, and the spell was broken.

“Done,” Aaron said, stepping back and turning to the makeup, adjusting it nervously. Eliza's lips twitched as though she knew what he was thinking, what had happened.

“Thank you, Mr. Burr,” she said. She waited a moment, expecting a polite answer, then opened the door to leave.

“Aaron!” he burst out. Eliza turned to him, confused. “I'm- You can call me Aaron. If you want.” She smiled again. God, why did she smile?

“Thank you, Aaron,” she said.

\-----

Aaron had expected that encounter, odd though it was, to be the last time, but Eliza kept coming, and it wasn't as though he could turn her away. Besides, he enjoyed it, strange as it sounded. He had been bored of Hamilton's routine makeup, and Eliza's was even less of a challenge, but he found that it didn't matter. He looked forward to her mid-morning visits to an extent that frightened him, but not enough for him to ask her to stop.

Aaron was aware that Hamilton had been hiding something, some great secret that consumed him. He was snappish and even more restless than usual, and Aaron could hear a hint of desperation beneath the ceaseless chatter that Hamilton threw up like a smoke screen. Aaron and Herc Mulligan, the Hamiltons’ tailor, exchanged theories, but neither could have ever guessed how the secret would come to light.

It started when Herc got an order for a dress. This in and of itself wasn't out of the ordinary, but the measurements he was given were.

“Aaron, this doesn’t make sense!” he said, waving a folded piece of legal paper and nearly overturning the perfume table in the process. Aaron glared at him.

“Be careful! That’s about $2,000 worth of perfume you almost destroyed!”

“Sorry,” Herc said, “but you have to see this!” He shoved the paper under Aaron’s nose. “Notice anything?” Aaron took the paper, scanning it as Herc waited impatiently.

“They’re measurements,” he said. “I should think that you would know what to do with them.”

“They aren’t for anyone in this family,” Herc said. “Hamilton gave them to me and gave me very specific instructions for a dress.” Aaron’s eyebrows rose. “Strange, no?”

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Aaron said. “After all, he’s had us help his friends before.”

“Yeah, but not a woman,” Herc said. “And he’s _never_ given me the measurements. He’s always let me do them myself.”

“That is strange,” Aaron admitted, but he refused to join in Herc’s speculation. If he just did his job, he had nothing to worry about. Hamilton’s personal business wasn’t his.

Little did he know that Hamilton was about to make it his business. Aaron was slightly surprised when Hamilton texted him an address and time on his supposed day off, but he was too used to his employer’s whims to not go with little to no grumbling. It was only when he found himself ushered into a private home by a nervous Hamilton that he began to get an inkling of the gravity of the situation.

“I’m going to a reception in a few hours,” Hamilton said. “Since Mrs. Hamilton can’t make it, Maria will be my escort. I need you to do her makeup.” Aaron didn’t respond. “You’ll do it, won’t you?”

“What do you want me to do?” Aaron said cautiously. Hamilton’s face cleared, and he began to chatter about his ideas for Maria’s makeup. As Aaron listened, his heart sunk in his chest, but he was careful not to let his suspicions show.

Maria was young, too young to be out of college. Though she smiled, there was something devouring in her gaze that made Aaron pause. He did his job. It wasn’t boring, far from it, all dramatic highlights and bold winged eyeliner, but it made him feel terrible, as though by following his employer’s instructions he was doing the wrong thing.

As Aaron let the house, Hamilton clapped a hand on his shoulder and made him vow to keep the meeting a secret. Aaron gave his word.

\-----

The next day, Eliza came into his studio, strangely subdued. He began to get out the makeup to do her usual, but she threw a paper on his table. Aaron caught a glimpse of the headline- “Hamilton’s Mystery Girl”- and then he turned back to Eliza.

“What do you want me to do? Your usual?” he asked. Eliza sat in the chair, a perfect picture of calm.

“Tell me that I’m paranoid,” she said. “Tell me that this is all just a gaffe, a misunderstanding. Tell me that Alexander would never-” She stopped, swallowing hard. “Can’t you?” Aaron didn’t answer, instead starting on her foundation. Eliza sighed and leaned back in the chair, allowing him to guide her through the familiar routine. It was only when he came to her eyeliner that she caught his wrist, stopping him.

“Winged,” she said, her voice calm. “I want it winged.” Aaron nodded, finishing quickly. When he saw done, she sat a few moments, motionless, as he put away the makeup, and then she stood but did not leave.

“Do you need anything else?” Aaron said. Eliza stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, burying her head in his chest. Aaron froze for a moment, then he hesitantly hugged her back.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and then she was gone. Aaron fell back into the chair, trying to calm his racing heart.

\-----

“Winged eyeliner!” Aaron didn’t react when Hamilton slammed open the door and upended the perfume table, shattering the bottles across the floor.

“That was $2,000 worth of perfume,” Aaron said, turning to Hamilton. Even he couldn’t help but flinch when Hamilton threw a nail polish at him, smashing the bottle against the wall. Hamilton stormed forward, poking a finger into Aaron’s chest and crowding him towards the wall.

“Let me make this perfectly clear,” he said. “You work for _me_ . You are not to do Eliza’s makeup. You are not to even _speak_ to Eliza, of God help me I will fire you.”

“My position is that of the Hamiltons’ makeup artist. The apostrophe is after the ‘s.’ I see no reason why-” Hamilton pushed him against the wall.

“I’m the one who pays you,” he said. “If you do this again…”

“I understand,” Aaron said, gritting his teeth against the protests he could feel bubbling up within him. He knew that if he could just get through this without antagonizing Hamilton further, everything would be forgiven come morning.

“See that you don’t forget it,” Hamilton said, shooting him one last, icy glare before slamming the door behind him. Aaron slid down the wall. He knew that he should sweep up the glass and wipe away the polish, but he felt too shocked and numb to do anything but rest on the floor and try to steady his breathing.

Aaron didn’t look up when he heard the door slowly open, but he wasn’t surprised when it was Eliza who knelt before him and took his trembling hands in hers.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Look, Aaron, I’ll talk to him. He’ll apologize, I’ll see to it.” Aaron shook his head. “Aaron, please, talk to me.”

“Haven’t you heard?” He gave a breathy, slightly hysterical laugh. “I’m not allowed to talk to you anymore.”

“God,” she said. “That bastard. Don’t worry. Even if he does fire you, I’ll hire you right back.” Eliza put a hand on his cheek, and Aaron leaned into it, closing his eyes. “Why would he do something like this?”

“Winged eyeliner,” Aaron said.

“Of course,” said Eliza, rolling her eyes. “Leave it to Alex to take something meant to tell him that I know about… her and use it to hurt everyone but him. God, I hate him sometimes.”

“No, you don’t,” Aaron said softly. Eliza sighed.

“Sometimes, I wish I’d married someone else,” she said. “You’re right, I love Alex, I really do, but he makes it difficult. God knows I’d rather be alone forever than stuck in- in all this.” Then Eliza looked into Aaron’s eyes. “Sometimes I swear you care more about me than he does.”

The spilled perfume was harsh and cloying with every breath Aaron took. His orderly, controlled studio was in shambles around him. The axe of unemployment was above him, ready to fall, but when Eliza’s mouth was on his he didn’t pull away. He didn’t want to say no.

\-----

Aaron and Hamilton had fallen into an uneasy truce. On one hand, Aaron kept his job, just as Hamilton had kept spending more and more nights “at the office.” Aaron knew what Hamilton was doing, and Hamilton, Aaron was certain, knew of his and Eliza’s… relationship, for lack of a better word. This arrangement depended on neither of them voicing their knowledge, because they knew that the other held all the knowledge needed to destroy their life.

On the other hand, instead of becoming more circumscript and tight-lipped, Aaron could have sworn that Hamilton became even more chatty at their daily sessions. Perhaps Hamilton assumed that, having the means to destroy his reputation, he could say anything to Aaron and damn the consequences. Perhaps he could, but the increased verbosity made Aaron’s job that much harder. As annoyed as he was, Aaron couldn’t do much to curb the onslaught, so he resigned himself to the perpetual awkwardness that comes from knowing every thought of the man whose wife you’re seeing.

“Aaron, do you think my pants look hot?” Hamilton said one morning. A silence that stretched a few seconds too long confirmed that, yes, Hamilton did want an answer to his bizarre question.

“They look fine,” Aaron said. Hamilton rolled his eyes.

“Of course they do, they’re on me. Look at them, Aaron.” His tone made the ridiculous request into a demand. Aaron glanced down, trying not to flush from the sheer awkwardness of looking at Hamilton… there. The pants in question were ridiculously tight, made of a shiny, too thin material.

“They’re very… 80’s,” Aaron said, not bothering to hide the laughter in his voice. Hamilton’s too-expressive face fell.

“Fine,” he huffed. “I’ll just tell Hercules that you don’t like his clothing.” Privately, Aaron noted that those pants may have been sewn by Herc, but they were Hamilton’s design through and through. “Oh! By the way, I have something for you.”

“What is it?” Aaron said, half expecting a paper terminating his employment. Hamilton placed a bottle of perfume on the empty table. Aaron stared, not quite comprehending what it was doing there. Hamilton shifted awkwardly as the silence grew longer.

“It’s perfume,” he said at last. “I know I broke a lot of it, so I’m going to start repaying you now. I didn’t know what kind you needed, so I just-”

“It’s great. Thank you, Mr. Hamilton.” Seeing the grin that Hamilton gave him made Aaron feel oddly touched.

“Call me Alex, please,” Hamilton said, settling down for the session.

It was only later that Aaron noticed the type of perfume: a 2 ounce bottle of _Caron’s Poivre_ , costing, he knew, exactly $2,000.

\-----

Aaron hated it when the Hamiltons gave dinner parties, because that meant that he had to stay in his studio, always on call in case something went terribly wrong and he had to play damage control. Most of the time it was exceedingly boring, but not this time.

Eliza burst into the room, slightly out of breath. Aaron reached for his tools, scanning her face for any sign of what he should fix, but she caught him by the wrists and pressed him against the table, kissing him.

“We have to be fast,” she said, fingers slipping beneath the band of his pants. “They can’t miss me.”

“This is dangerous,” Aaron mumbled, but he didn’t protest as Eliza captured his mouth with another kiss.

“I know,” she said, and Aaron gasped as her hand curled around his dick. “Exhilarating, isn’t it?” Moaning, Aaron rocked back, allowing Eliza to lead. It took only a half dozen strokes for him to become painfully hard. He reached up to cup the thin fabric over Eliza’s breast, and she gasped as his thumb massaged one hard nipple.

“God damn it, Eliza,” he said, pressing with lips and teeth into her collarbone.

“Do you want me to finish you now,” she said, “or shall I leave you here in aching anticipation?” Aaron moaned, and Eliza drew back, grinning. “I expect you to still be hard when I return.”

“Eliza…” With a final kiss, she was gone. Aaron groaned, knuckles white as he clenched the edge of the table. It took all his self-control to not reach down and finish the deed himself, but in time his erection began to flag and the urge became more bearable.

Of course that had to be when Hamilton entered the room. Aaron tried to straighten and appear as though he hadn’t just been receiving a handjob from his employer’s wife, but his act was fooling no one. To his surprise, Hamilton showed no anger, but instead broke into a knowing smirk.

“Ah, Eliza is a hard mistress, isn’t she?” he said. Aaron was too distracted to realize Hamilton’s object until he was already on top of him, kissing Aaron with a deceptive gentleness. “I suppose she left you here to take care of yourself?” Aaron shook his head. For a moment Hamilton seemed confused, then his eyes gleamed with understanding. “Of course,” he breathed, and then he sunk to his knees.

“Hamilton, what are you-” Aaron moaned as Hamilton mouthed at the bulge in his pants.

“May I?” Hamilton said. Aaron’s hands curled in Hamilton’s hair as he nodded. Quickly, Hamilton undid the belt and pants and brought out Aaron’s throbbing erection. Hamilton’s lips enveloped his head and-

“ _Jesus_ ,” Aaron gasped. Hamilton worked down the length, occasionally adding a slow swallow to his ministrations. It was only when Aaron was on the edge and sure that he couldn’t hold on for another moment that Hamilton let him go. “No, no-”

“Eliza wouldn’t be happy if I ruined her fun,” Hamilton said. He kissed Aaron again, and Aaron could taste himself on Hamilton’s lips. “I'll see you later, Aaron.” Aaron was certain that he couldn’t resist the urge to touch himself this time. It took another fifteen minutes for Eliza to return, a mischievous smile still on her lips.

“Well, Aaron, haven’t you been good,” she said. It took only a few more strokes for Aaron to come in her hand. She cradled him in her arms as he sunk to the ground, exhausted but satisfied. “Now, was it you who kept yourself so pretty for me?”

Instead of answering, Aaron decided to kiss her. He didn’t know how to explain what had happened, but he did know one thing for certain. He had to get Alex and Eliza to talk to each other, or he was going to end up ruining all of their relationships.

\-----

Herc gazed at him with pity as Aaron lit another cigarette. Chain-smoking again. Theodosia would have hated it. She had been the one to make him quit, so many years ago, before cancer had come on her mercilessly and shattered their family apart. He still hated himself for that. Perhaps, if he had been around more, if he had found a better doctor, if he _hadn’t smoked_ …

“If I had know,” Aaron said, “what my life would be like now, I would have never taken this job.”

“Oh, come on, it can’t be all that bad,” Herc said. Aaron gave him a look.

“I’m ‘the other man’ for both of them at the same time,” he said. “How the hell is that not bad?”

“Well, at least you’re getting some,” Herc said.

“Not really relevant,” Aaron said. “One wrong move, and I’m out, unemployable. I wish I had never gotten into this mess.”

“Come on, Alex already knows about you and Eliza. Just tell Eliza about you and Alex, and then you can have a hot threesome.”

“Eliza specifically came to me because Hamilton was cheating on her. I don’t know how she’d even react to-”

“To what?” Herc and Aaron whirled around to see Eliza standing behind them, hands on her hips. “Aaron, what’s going on?” Aaron didn’t know how to answer her.

“Eliza, I don’t want to lose you,” he said. Her face softened from anger to something more akin to sadness. “But I have something to confess.”

“What is it?” she said. “Whatever it is, Aaron, I swear we can make it work.” Aaron swallowed, trying to get the words to unstick from his throat, but he couldn’t say it. He didn’t know what Eliza’s reaction would be, but he knew that he couldn’t bring himself to say anything that could break her heart. He opened his mouth, ready to utter some tremendous lie, when Herc sidled forward.

“Your husband gave him a blowjob.” Aaron wanted to close his eyes against the way that Eliza’s face fell like a perfume bottle and her soul shattered behind her eyes.

“Aaron?” she said. It was a plea for him to deny it, to make things right. He looked down at the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

\-----

The next time that Hamilton entered the studio, Aaron was ready for a fight. What he didn't realize was that Hamilton was going to be the one to start it. The moment that Hamilton burst into the room, he gave Aaron an icy glare.

“What did you do, you asshole?” he said. Aaron had to bite his tongue. He would let Hamilton have his say. “Eliza won't talk to me. She won't talk to anyone, she just sits in our room crying.”

“And why do you assume that I had anything to do with this?” Aaron hated the words that came from his mouth almost unbidden. He hated how cold he sounded, how damned logical. Most of all, he hated how he sounded as though he was trying to defend his actions and deny how he’d hurt Eliza when he knew. God did he know.

“Don’t give me that shit,” Hamilton snapped. “I know as well as you do that you're the only one who could hurt her like that.” Aaron knew that wasn't true, had seen the damage for himself, but Hamilton seemed to believe his words. Aaron didn't know how to feel about that.

“She discovered that you…” Aaron searched for a way to phrase their indiscretion that wasn't vulgar, but the look on Hamilton's face assured him that the other man understood. “Honestly, I believe that she is upset with both of us at the moment.”

“You were the one who let me blow you,” Hamilton said defensively.

“You are her _husband_ ,” Aaron said. “At minimum, she expects that you stay faithful. That was the entire reason that she came to me in the first place.”

“And look at what a mess you made of that,” Hamilton mocked. “You can't even keep it in your pants long enough to take it to another house. I wonder how many ladies you _entertained_ as your wife lay dying-” Aaron punched him, and Hamilton stumbled back into the table, knocking the lone bottle of perfume to the ground. Hamilton’s hand slowly touched his bleeding nose.

“You hit me,” he said, disbelieving.

“I quit,” Aaron snarled, storming out of the room and into the cool morning air.

\-----

_Aaron Burr is not available right now. Please leave your message after the tone. *Beep*_

“Burr, you’d better get back here right now! You can quit in two weeks but not a _second_ earlier!”

“Actually, you know what? You're fired! I don't ever want to see your face again.”

“And don't have any delusions about getting a reference from me, you bastard! If anyone calls, I will tell them exactly what you did.”

“All right, I may have been out of line with the wife thing. I'm sorry about that.”

“But you were out of line first when you fucked my wife!”

“Eliza just informed me that you never had sex with her. This doesn't change anything. You're still an asshole.”

“And, yes, I know I'm an asshole.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I don't blame you for hitting me. I would have hit me. But… yeah.”

“I'm sorry I ruined things between you and Eliza.”

“You're so much better for her. You're so much better, and that kills me, because I want to be that for her. I want to do what you do.”

“I want to talk to you. Can you come in tomorrow at the usual time?”

“Please? I don't want you back, I just want to talk.”

“I mean, I do want you back, but… yeah.”

“...”

“I'm so sorry.”

“Um, Aaron? It's Eliza. Can you… Can you call me back when you get this?”

\-----

Aaron didn't know why he returned to the Hamiltons’ home. Perhaps it was force of habit, or perhaps there was a part of him that still hoped that something could be salvaged. Regardless, he found himself back in his tiny studio. The neat rows remained undisturbed, as though nothing had changed, as though the splinters of glass that still remained on the floor didn't betray just how wrong everything was.

Eliza and Hamilton entered together, arm in arm, and Aaron turned to his instruments, hands shaking too much to even adjust them to their proper positions. He didn't want to face them; he didn't want to have any hope torn away from him. At the same time, he had to do it. He had to know that it was over.

“Aaron?” Of course it was Eliza who spoke first. Eliza, who was sweet and kind and good, who he had betrayed even as she tried to escape her husband's same betrayals. “Aaron, look at me.” He forced himself to obey her.

“Eliza, I-” She stepped forward and kissed him.

“Alex and I have had a long talk,” Eliza said, “and we’ve come to an agreement. I'm sorry that you've been dragged into this. It was unfair of us to turn you into a plaything, a pawn to dethrone the other.”

“There's nothing to forgive,” Aaron said. Eliza's touch was overwhelming, and then it was joined with Hamilton's as the other man pressed kisses to Aaron's collarbone.

“I was an asshole,” Hamilton said softly, “to both of you. I wouldn't blame you for leaving me entirely. But I'm willing to try again if you are.”

“What do you mean?” Aaron said. Eliza untucked his shirt, revealing a sliver of skin.

“We mean,” she said, “that we love you. If you say the word, we’ll be yours, in every way possible.” Aaron couldn't contain everything he was feeling. He kissed first her, then Hamilton, open-mouthed and desperate.

“Always,” he promised. “Always.”


End file.
